Tropical Depression
by Kristine Thorne
Summary: This is a Christmassy Holby songfic.


Disclaimer: All characters belong to the BBc. 

A/N: All lyrics belong to Alan Jackson, and I will be happy to supply details if requested. 

Tropical Depression 

When Diane came up to her on Christmas Eve, and invited her to a little impromptu party she and Owen were planning that evening, Connie wasn't quite sure what to expect. The last party she'd been to with the staff, had been Ric's fiftieth, where she'd almost ended up sleeping with will. She guessed both Ric and Will would be going tonight. Well, that would give her a chance to have a little play with them, wouldn't it? Though she didn't find the idea of dangling Ric on a string, quite so appealing. He wasn't a man to be messed with, and she knew she'd hurt his feelings by casting him off so thoughtlessly, back after that day in late June when she'd first come here. Even though Mubbs was Owen's registrar, Connie sincerely hoped he wouldn't be going. She was heartily sick of his whining, and would certainly not want to spend an evening trying to escape his advances. Mubbs was just one of those things a woman did in a moment of sheer, unadulterated insanity. Nothing more, nothing less. Tricia was looking a lot better today, so she would probably be going, as would Carlos, since they'd got back together. Connie liked Carlos, and though she had thought his treatment of Tricia was a little crass to say the least, she had understood it. But that appeared to be all behind them now, and Carlos was always fun to get drunk with. She'd worked with him before coming here, and had often partaken of an after work session with him, that involved plenty of alcohol and plenty of good music. Would Chrissie be going, she wondered, the party being in the house she'd shared with Owen and all that. Well, whoever was there, it would give her a chance to let her hair down, and possibly even find someone to take home with her, because after all, nobody, not even her, should be alone at Christmas. 

After slipping home in her lunch break, to pick up a dress and some shoes for the party that evening, Connie got through the rest of her day in a state of aroused anticipation. But just after eight that evening, when she was in her office, with the blinds pulled down and the door shut but not locked, changing into her slinky black dress, there came a knock on the door. Before she could ask whoever it was to give her a minute, Ric opened it and put his head in. "Come in, don't be shy," Connie told him with a smirk. "It's not as if you haven't seen it all before." Doing as she asked, Ric closed the door behind him, and leant against it surveying her openly. God, she looked incredible, clad only in the black lace bra, and the skimpiest pair of red and black lace knickers he'd ever seen. "See something you like, Mr. Griffin?" She asked in that sultry, sexy voice that no man could ever say no to. "Yes," He replied, shamelessly looking her up and down. "It almost seems a shame for you to put on the dress." "Oh, really," She drawled sotto voce, walking over to him. "And tell me," She said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "How would you have me appear at this party?" "I wouldn't let you get that far," Ric told her, smoothing a strand of her hair behind her ear. When their lips met, his arms moved fully round her, running the length of her almost bare back, caressing her shoulder blades, and solicitously playing with the waistband of her knickers. Slipping a hand between them, she laid it tantalisingly over his steadily growing arousal. "Well," She said, finally detaching her lips from his. "You'll just have to be patient, and wait till later, won't you." After this clear invitation, she moved away from him, and slipped into the dress, smirking at the slightly dazed look on his face. "Is that a promise?" He asked, watching her begin to apply a new layer of make up. "I should imagine so," She said a little dismissively. "As long as I don't get a better offer." 

About ten minutes later, when Connie walked up to the nurses' station to see if the others were ready, they were all waiting for her. Walking straight up to Ric, Connie put out a hand to straighten his tie. "You should never, think of going to a party with anything resembling a slightly crooked tie," She said with a smirk. "And you shouldn't go anywhere, looking quite so in danger of getting frostbite," He replied, doing up another button on her extremely low cut dress. "You two sound like an old married couple," Donna commented dryly. But as Connie began walking down the corridor with Chrissie and Tricia, with the others bringing up the rear, she grinned when she heard Lisa say, "Will you two put your tongues back in, for god's sake," Clearly meant for Ric and Will, who hadn't said a word to her. She liked making men utterly speechless, and Will especially. It confused him to find her sexy, she knew it did. Carlos joined them on the way down to the carpark, and Connie spared a thought to wonder what Zubin was doing this Christmas. She would have liked to get on with him, but he'd always been so prickly. Of course, if Will hadn't had a wife and family to contend with, it would have been much easier. She could simply have had her way with him, and then let him slink away and lick his wounds. But not even she would thoughtlessly break up a marriage. 

Carlos had driven one car, Connie another, and Will the third, with everyone else packing into any available space in either. They'd stopped at an off licence on the way, and were now weighed down with enough alcohol to keep even them satisfied. Ric had been impressed at Connie's silver-grey Jag, and had spent the drive observing the way her skilful hands casually rested on the wheel, adjusting it with the merest of touches. Connie had put some music on, and had felt no difficulty in singing to whatever was playing, letting Ric into the secret of one of her other, usually hidden qualities. When they arrived at Diane and Owen's house, Connie saw Chrissie's slightly wistful gaze as she looked at the house, the house where she should have been living with Owen and Amanda. "You lose more than your husband when you split up," Connie said to her in an undertone, showing her a very brief flicker of support. Chrissie looked at her for a moment, seeing a hint of regret in Connie's face, and wondered why Connie wasn't spending Christmas Eve with her husband. 

When Owen opened the door, it briefly occurred to him that far too many of his old cast offs had come to this party. But then, that's what happened when you slept with work colleagues. Tricia, Lisa, and Chrissie. Thank god he'd never done a Mubbs, and slept with their utterly stunning Medical Director, who looked tonight as if she might swallow any man completely whole. "Where's Diane?" Lisa asked him. "Just putting her face on," He replied, knowing that Lisa would at least know where to find her. When he saw Ric, he said in an undertone, "I hope you haven't brought any illicit substances with you this time." "Am I never going to live that down?" Ric asked with a smile, handing over some red wine. "Oh, this wouldn't be to do with your little caution for possession, now would it?" Connie asked knowingly. "You got done for possession," Donna said in gleeful surprise. "Well done, Mr. G, I'm proud of you." Just then, Diane appeared, looking so breathtakingly beautiful that Ric couldn't help staring at her. He hadn't seen her look so good, well, since he'd been dating her when she was at med school. "Are you talking about Sam Kennedy's thirtieth?" She asked, catching the end of the conversation. "That was just before I came to Holby." "Owen has far too good a memory," Ric told her. "Why's it always the consultants who insist on behaving badly?" Tricia said with a wink at Owen, reminding him that his passed wasn't exactly in pristine condition. "It's a consultant's prerogative," Connie said, thinking that tonight of all nights would be her night for behaving particularly badly. 

It was a couple of hours later, and the younger members of the group were getting ready to head off to a nightclub. "You coming with us, Diane?" Donna asked, after popping upstairs to redo her make up. "It's not really my scene, Donna," Diane said carefully. "You'll get old too quickly for your own good, if you're not careful," Donna said to her, remembering just in time to lower her voice. "I'll take my chances," Diane told her, thinking that she'd prefer the slightly older more mature company of her husband to be, any day of the year. When Donna, Mickie, Lisa and Jess had left for the club, and Will had driven home to his wife, dropping Chrissie home on the way because she was on an early shift in the morning, there was just the six of them left. Carlos had been prowling round the lounge, needing to stretch his legs even though he'd been in theatre all day like the rest of them. Spying Owen's CD collection, he made his way over to it. "Well, as I live and breathe," He said in wonder, flipping through the CD's in the wrack. "I thought I was the only one in this hospital who had any musical taste." "You're not a true Scouser if you don't like a bit of country now and then," Owen said with pleasure, enchanted to find someone else who shared his fixation, with some of the corniest lines and most predictable chord progressions in musical history. "Oh, no, not another one," Diane groaned in resigned affection. "Ric used to play that stuff to me when I was at med school." "Ric Griffin, I never would have believed it," Tricia said in surprise. "You're into country and you never said so," Owen said with a smile. "In very small doses," Ric admitted carefully. "In his very uncool moments, he loves it," Diane said fondly, the wine she'd consumed giving her the freedom and confidence to openly talk about the times she'd spent with Ric when she was younger. "I've been trying to educate Diane in that respect," Owen said, putting his arm round her. "But I'm not having much luck so far." "I don't know what's worse," Diane said, smiling over at Ric. "Owen's country music while he's cooking, or the stuff you make us listen to in theatre." "Hey, the music I play in theatre is pure class," Ric said in offended dignity. "That's a matter of opinion," Carlos said dryly, retrieving a CD and slotting it into the stereo. 

Selecting the second track on the CD, Carlos turned to look over at Connie, who was sitting on the sofa, for the moment taking something of a backward role in the conversation. "Shall we show them how it's done?" He asked her. "May as well shatter my reputation completely," Connie said, getting to her feet. "Do you remember when I taught you the dance to this?" Carlos said, holding out his arms to her. "Barely," She replied with a self-deprecating smile. "I was either drunk or stoned at the time." "Aha," Said Ric in delight. "So I'm not the only one capable of exhibiting thoroughly disreputable behaviour." "Of course not," Connie told him almost innocently. As they began to sway in time with the guitars and violins, Connie really began to relax. Her thoughts had strayed to Michael continuously this evening, because she used to be able to be happy with him, as she was now, but no more. Instead, she was in the lounge of one of her colleagues, with five friendly people, and dancing with one of the best movers she'd ever encountered. She had once slept with Carlos, only once, almost two years ago now. But ever since, they'd always been good friends, always able to have a laugh or a session of commiseration together. When Carlos began to sing, he kept moving with her, but his eyes were gazing over at Tricia, sitting chatting to Owen on the other sofa, both of them watching what the two dancers were doing. 

"This old bar stools feeling higher, as I started sinking lower, the minute that she waltzed right through that door. Not long ago I held her, like a fool I went and left her. Now she's with somebody else out on that floor."

God, his voice could go so deep, it almost made Connie swoon, but she tried to keep any evidence of this out of her face for Tricia's sake. The more she relaxed, the more her feet could move through the steps that she clearly had remembered. 

"And she's got the rhythm and I got the blues, and she's showing me how much I had to lose. With her every little move she's telling me I'm over you. She's got the rhythm and I got the blues." 

"His voice is just like honey," Tricia found herself saying. "And she can't half dance," Owen said, his appreciation for the music increasing his enjoyment of the view exponentionally. "I'm happy for you, Owen," Tricia said suddenly, for a moment taking her eyes off the couple in the middle of the floor. "Thank you," Owen told her sincerely, slightly flabbergasted that he was hearing this. "That means a lot." "I couldn't really say so, not before, not with Chrissie here," Tricia clarified. "But I think Diane's right for you. She's not complicated, and she won't mess you about." "You look happy with Carlos," Owen said, briefly thinking that he must get a dance with Connie tonight. "It hasn't all been plain sailing," Tricia said ruefully. "He couldn't deal with me, with the cancer very well. But I think we're all right now." "How is that?" Owen asked gently. "It's fine. Well, for the moment. You know how these things are." 

On the other sofa, Diane was sitting with Ric, also watching the dance between Connie and Carlos. "You're looking happy tonight," Ric said, knowing that with the voicing of such a thought, he'd definitely had too much to drink. "I am," She told him. "I wish you were though." "Me? Oh, I'm fine," Ric said unconvincingly. ""It's time you found someone, Ric," Diane said gently. "You shouldn't be on your own." "I've been there and done that, Diane, too many times. Besides, I thought I did have someone once." She knew he was referring to her, and it stung. She'd never wanted to hurt Ric, but she'd known it was inevitable. He'd never entirely got over her, never quite managed to move on. "Ric, I'm with Owen now," She said quietly, taking his hand in hers and softly stroking the knuckles. "Yes, I know," He said, resisting the urge to cling onto that beautiful hand forever more. "And I'm happy for you, really I am." "You should hook up with Connie," Diane said with a wink. "You've been dancing round each other for months." "Been there and done that as well," He said dryly. "So it was you," She said in realisation, a grin of triumph spreading over her face. "I knew it. Well, there you are then, half the battle won and all that." "Me and Connie are as dysfunctional as each other, Diane, and have you forgotten that she's married." "Just, I hate it when you're miserable," Diane said softly. "All I care about," He said just as gently. "Is that you're happy, and will be happy." "Thank you," She said, brief tears rising to her eyes. Then, to lighten the moment, she glanced back over at Connie and Carlos. "I think I might get him to teach me that dance, just to stop Owen accusing me of treading on his feet." 

"With her every little move she's telling me I'm over you. She's got the rhythm and I got the blues." 

When Carlos rose with total ease, up to the A on the word "Blues", they all stared at him. "Carlos, that was positively obscene," Connie said with a laugh. "Oh, so says the woman who practically did a strip tease at the Christmas party where I met you," He said with a fond smile. "Exhibitionism was your middle name in those days." "I did not," She protested vehemently. "You may as well have done, with that red thing you were wearing." "Carlos, will you teach me that dance?" Diane asked, dying to get some scurrilous stories of Connie out of him. "Sure," He said, holding out his arms to her, then turning to the stereo to select a different track. "I don't suppose I could have the pleasure?" Owen asked Connie with a smile. "Why, of course Mr. Davis," She said with a mock curtsey. After refilling both hers and Ric's glasses, Tricia said to him, "Come on, if they can do it, so can we." 

"I've been known to tie one on, and honky tonk til half past three. But the party don't get started til my baby pours her love on me. She's a hundred proof, Lord she's smooth She makes me moan all night long. So I don't need the booze to get a buzz on." 

Connie was pleasantly surprised to hear Owen's voice join Carlos's as the words began, his light tenor undulating around the words with the south American drawl, that came to Carlos so naturally. "I didn't know you could sing," She said to him in the break between the two verses. "I usually only hear him in the shower," Diane put in, having heard her comment. "It was just one of those things that I wanted to do, but never quite got round to, what with medical school and everything." "You should hear him when he gets his guitar out," Diane said fondly. 

They danced to several more, and consumed a good deal more wine. When they returned to a more relaxing pastime, Carlos and Tricia took one sofa, Connie and Ric the other, with Diane perched on Owen's knee in the big armchair. "Are you planning to drive?" Ric asked Connie, as she took a sip from her nth glass of red wine. "No," She said, putting it down on the coffee table. "I plan on you driving." "Good job I have my licence in my wallet then, isn't it," He said, putting his arm round her, and she nestling into his shoulder. "That's a general surgeon for you," She said matter-of-factly. "Prepared for all eventualities." Diane had put on some fairly slushy music, the words and melodies drifting over them, creeping into all their senses, putting a spark to the ever-building waves of lust. With her face very close to his, she added, "Have you realised what's above your head?" Glancing up, Ric smiled when he saw the bunch of mistletoe. Diane had obviously been in one of her matchmaking moods tonight, as there was similar bunches over the other sofa and the armchair, as well as in any doorway that led out of the lounge. "Well, far be it from me to waste the opportunity," He said, lowering his lips to hers. They could both taste the wine on each other's mouths, the combination of the music and the alcohol intoxicating. But then something occurred to Ric, something which, he realised, ought to have occurred to him long before now. "Connie," He said, eventually detaching his lips from hers. "Why aren't you at home tonight, with Michael?" "And there I was, thinking you were enjoying my company," She said, her strident tone a lot quieter than usual. "I am," He said, forcing her to look at him. "I just wondered, that's all." "He left," She said, simply and flatly, with no hint of a facial expression, and with virtually no inflection in her voice. "A couple of weeks ago." Then, at Ric's raised eyebrow, she said, "Ric, I don't want to talk about Michael. I want to get a little drunk, and I want to take you home with me for a night of utterly fabulous distraction, and I don't want to even think of sorting anything out with Michael, until I am good and ready. Do you have any objection with that?" "None at all," He said softly, his gaze telling her that he really did understand what she was going through, and that he knew exactly why she was doing what she was doing. "I hope that isn't pity I see in your eyes, Mr. Griffin," She said, reverting to his proper title because she was on the defensive. "No," He said quietly, ignoring her barb. "It's more than likely understanding, because I've been there and done that, four times to be exact and almost a fifth. So yes, I entirely agree with your suggested course of action." They stayed quiet for a while, just listening to the words on the CD, broken occasionally by a laugh or a line of conversation from either of the other two couples in the room. "If I forget to say it later," She said eventually, leaning forward to kiss him. "Thank you." "The feeling's mutual," He said between kisses. "You're not the only one who could do with a distraction." As she began to relax into the feelings Ric was inducing in her, Connie gently nudged the hand of the arm that was around her, gradually persuading his hand into moving up from her waist, to begin caressing her breast, under the cover of her right which she lowered over it, more to keep it in place than to conceal what they were doing. Ric softly laughed when she did this, her meaning utterly transparent. He could feel the outline of her bra, and the pinnacle of her nipple as it rose under his wandering fingers. "God, do you have any idea what that is doing to me?" She asked, her lips grazing his ear. "And you think you're the only one with a problem," He said with a slight frown. "Well, you'll have to wait till we get home, for me to relieve your particular difficulty," She said lasciviously, laying a provocative hand on his thigh. 

As Connie leant forward for her glass of wine, she caught sight of Diane's gaze on them. So, she was wondering what they were up to, was she. Well, perhaps it wouldn't do Miss Diane Lloyd any harm to see exactly what she'd lost. As Connie leant back, raising her arm to take a sip of her wine, she fixed Diane with her hypnotic gaze, causing Diane to be unable to miss Ric's far too visibly wandering hand on Connie's breast. Connie knew she could stare out anyone, and she maintained the contact with Diane until Diane finally dropped her eyes, having obviously seen quite enough. Diane didn't mention to Owen what she'd seen, because she couldn't help feeling a slight pang of jealousy for what Connie was clearly being given. But hadn't she told Ric to find someone knew only a short time ago? But that didn't mean she wanted him to do it right under her very nose. 

When Connie realised that her tactics had had the desired effect, she suggested to Ric that they perhaps make a move, for it was pretty late by now. When Owen realised that certainly Ric and Connie and possibly Carlos and Tricia were thinking of leaving, he said that they had to have one last dance. As this dance was a slow one, they remained in their respective couples, arms going around each other for this crooning, swooning lovesong. When both Owen and Carlos took up the words, Connie felt the sharp sting of the fact that although she and Ric might be about to spend the night together, this was all they were likely to have. He was right in what he'd said earlier that he didn't think she'd heard, they were both as dysfunctional as each other, which meant they would never click, at least not with any lasting effect. As both Carlos and Owen took up the words, connie felt a slight prickling behind her eyes. The words and the melody were so poignant, that the force of the love that was surrounding her, none of which was meant for her, almost knocked her for six. 

"I thought some time in the sun, would help me get over you. But I could tell from day one, This is a place meant for two.

Now here I sit on the beach, watching the tide ebb and flow. I booked my room for a week, but now I'm ready to go." 

Taking the time to look into each other's eyes, Connie and Ric could both see the pain in their depths, Connie's for the husband who had left her, and Ric's for Diane, dancing not three feet away from him in another man's arms. 

"I'm in a tropical depression. I've got the blue water blues. Can't shake this loving you obsession. Can't stand this sand in my shoes. This forgetting you vacation, is just a fool's holiday. If I can't get over you, this tropical depression is gonna Blow me away." 

Ric held connie closer, seeing the tears shining in her eyes, that she refused to allow to fall. He'd never met Connie's husband, but if Connie's behaviour since her arrival at Holby was anything to go by, he'd probably played her around as much as she had him. Connie was greatful for his comfort, his lack of words on the subject giving her the freedom to seek such comfort. But as Connie returned his soft and gentle expression, she became aware of his own brief moment of hurting. Following his gaze, she saw Diane and Owen kissing under one of the numerous bunches of mistletoe, making use of the break in the song between the verses. "You still love her, don't you," She said quietly. "There's always one," He said ruefully. "Always one who you don't quite get over, and who never thought I was quite good enough for her." "I know the feeling," Connie told him softly, thinking that consoling each other was perhaps the best thing they could do on a night like this. 

"This should be paradise, heaven down by the sea. Without you here by my side, it feels like hell to me." 

When they left a little while later, Connie handed him her car keys. "Are you sure you want this?" He asked her, wanting her to be quite sure, and refusing to take advantage of any emotional vulnerability. "Yes," She said, kissing him in the frosty moonlight. "I might currently feel more miserable than I have done for a long time, but I need this, and I think you do too." As they drove almost silently through the streets to her house, neither of them could forget the words of that last song. Ric had done everything possible to try and get himself over diane, because he knew she would never love him again, and connie was coming to the conclusion that she would have to do the same with regards to her husband. She'd played him round once too often, she knew that. He wasn't coming back, not for all the loving promises in the world. So, Ric looked like being the first step on her journey towards a "Getting over him vacation." There were, after all, far worse ways to dull one's pain. But no matter how good the ensuing hours would be for her, for both of them, she would never forget the feeling of being in another man's arms, dancing in Owen's lounge, and hearing those far too poignant words. 

"I'm in a tropical depression. I've got the blue water blues. Can't shake this loving you obsession. Can't stand this sand in my shoes. This forgetting you vacation, is just a fool's holiday. If I can't get over you, this tropical depression is gonna Blow me away." 


End file.
